


No Dream Can Heal A Broken Heart

by little_escapist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood, Bloodplay, Canon Compliant, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Episode: s04e09 I Know What You Did Last Summer, F/M, Grieving Sam, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10098992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_escapist/pseuds/little_escapist
Summary: Dean’s in Hell and Sam is a bomb waiting to explode. He has no direction, nothing to live for, until Ruby finds him and offers him meaning again by giving him a target, her body, and her blood. Sam never thought he’d be squatting in an excuse of a house with a demon, but here he is, trying to stop crying and hoping his pain would end. Or, the summer between seasons 3 & 4.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The name of the fic as well as the lyrics in the beginning of every chapter are from Sonata Arctica song No Dream Can Heal A Broken Heart.

_One day we will run out of tomorrows / And yesterdays become the stuff our dreams are made of_

The clock ticks on the wall.

Every passing second is one second longer in a world without Dean.

Sam sits on the floor, cradling his brother’s blood-covered body in his arms. He cries, he weeps uncontrollably, calls Dean’s name. This is what despair feels like. Dean will never answer Sam’s call again. Dean is doomed to suffer forever. Sam is more alone than ever before, and worse yet, he has failed his brother. Lost his brother.  
Sam sobs until he feels numb all over, so numb he can’t feel his legs or his tears. It feels like Sam’s chest was torn open by hell hounds, not Dean’s. He can still hear the clock ticking on, though. How can the world keep going on when Dean is no longer breathing? How can the clock keep its steady rhythm, when there’s no beat in Dean’s heart? Sam wails. He does not care. His brother is dead.

“Son.” It’s Bobby, and there are tears in his voice. Sam doesn’t have the power to wonder where the older hunter was and how he happened to arrive now. There’s nothing Bobby can do. He can’t bring Dean back.

“We need to get a move on, Sam, no matter how bad it feels. Before someone comes to see what’s happened here,” Bobby says. His words are thick and gruff and Sam wants to slap them away. He doesn’t feel like moving. He’s not sure if he can stand, since he can’t quite feel his legs.

It takes Sam five tries and some help from Bobby to get up from the floor. He tries to dry his face on his sleeve but ends up smearing Dean’s blood on his cheeks instead. His hands are red, so is his shirt. So be it. Dean’s blood is on his hands, both literally and figuratively. Sam did not save Dean. After Sam thinks his legs are starting to obey him, he lifts Dean up. Dean, always so full of life, cracking jokes and flirting, is now still and silent, heavy. Sam can’t help thinking of the phrase dead weight. His brother’s body is heavy, but this burden is Sam’s to carry, all the way. Sam knows this weight will stay with him for the rest of his life, no matter what happens to him. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other. Bobby follows him quietly, a steady presence behind Sam, still sniffling.

Sam does not head out the door, but to the bathroom. He gently puts Dean down in the tub. Bobby looks like he’s going to say something, but Sam just levels a look at him. No words are spoken. Sam will wash his brother and hear no argument. He will give Dean a nice shirt to replace the one that’s in shreds, and the other that’s bloody. He will clean the wounds and wash away the blood as best as he can. Bobby leaves him to it after Sam’s rid Dean of the ruined shirts.

It looks so bad, and Sam’s cheeks are raw from his tears. He can’t breathe for a while, but he has to push through. Dean’s chest is a mess, skin in ribbons, blood everywhere. Sam finds a towel and gets it damp, presses it to Dean’s chest that’s getting cold and clammy. The white, soft fabric turns angry red. Sam keeps one corner clean, and with that, he swipes away the red drops from his brother’s face. He touches Dean gently, slowly, can’t help running a finger down his cheek, his jaw, touching his brother like he never did while Dean still lived.

Then he closes Dean’s eyes forever. He will never again meet the deep green full of mischief, full of determination, full of love. Dean will never look at Sam in this life or after, and Sam feels like his very soul is breaking apart into tiny shards that pierce through him inside out. This can’t be happening. Just moments ago Dean was there, telling him to keep fighting. Telling him to take care of the car. And now, now Dean’s not here, and he’s not bitching about Sam taking forever helping with his wounds.

When Bobby returns, he has Dean’s duffel bag with him. Sam nods his thanks and digs out a shirt for Dean to wear. Before Sam puts it on him, though, he takes the amulet from Dean. He can’t put it around his neck, not now, so he stuffs it in his pocket instead. He will keep it, as a reminder, as if he could ever forget any of this.  
Sam refuses Bobby’s help lifting Dean up again and heading out of the house. The street is silent, night dark around them. Stars shine faintly on the inky black sky. Their footfalls sound too loud in stillness. Sam keeps walking, and his tears never stop. He has no energy to try and compose himself. He does not care. His brother is dead.

They reach the Impala. Sam’s arms are shaking. He’s exhausted, but he does not sag against the car nor does he hurry Bobby with the door. This weight is on him whether he’s actually carrying Dean or not. Finally, he lays Dean down on the backseat and stretches his aching arms. He welcomes the burn, for it’s not as painful as the one in his heart, it’s something to focus on. Before closing the door, Sam places one long kiss on Dean’s cheek. He hasn’t done that since he was just a little boy. Bobby stays thankfully silent. Sam looks at his brother and his tears gain sudden, painful strength. Sam crumbles on the ground right next to the car. It’s like his legs can’t take the amount of grief anymore. Sam can’t breathe, he can’t live without Dean. How is he supposed to keep fighting? There’s no reason to. Sam has finally lost everything he ever held dear. There’s nothing left for him now that Dean, too, is dead.

*

Sometime later Sam finds himself sitting on the driver’s seat of the Impala. It’s his brother’s seat, molded to Dean’s body after endless hours of sitting, living on that seat, that exact spot. He’d never sit there again. Sam takes a moment to breathe. He feels like he’s sitting on the wrong side of the car, even though he’s driven it countless times. Still, the shotgun seat was more his. He belongs there, just like Dean belongs behind the wheel, revving the engine and blasting out his cock rock. Sam spends a good while collecting himself so that he can see enough to drive. Bobby has gone to get his truck to follow Sam, wherever they might be going. Bobby didn’t offer to drive with Sam. They both need time to themselves, time for their grief. Grief. Damn, the word seems somehow final. Sam turns the key and the engine rumbles to life. Dean is motionless, lifeless, on the back seat.

It’s early morning when Sam finally stops driving. He has no idea where he is, but Bobby’s truck follows him still. There’s a gas station, and Sam stops there. It seems as good place as any, because no matter how far Sam drives, Dean won’t be there. What is left of Sam’s brother is a cold body on the backseat. Two things are clear to Sam after these hours: one, he will not give Dean a hunter’s funeral, and two, he will get Dean back. Dean will breathe again, or Sam will die trying to make it so.  
Bobby knocks on Sam’s window. Sam opens the door and steps out, stretches his legs and straightens his shoulders.

“You know what comes now, Sam,” Bobby says. His voice is gruff and quiet. “There was a small wood a while back. I think we could build the pyre there.”

“No,” Sam says.

Bobby looks at him. Sam is too exhausted to read his face.

“We need to…”

“No,” Sam repeats. “Dean will need his body when I get him back. We bury him, and not too deep.”

For a while, Sam is sure Bobby will try to argue. The older hunter knows that Sam will not change his mind, though. It’s useless to try to say anything. Bobby lets out a huge, tired sigh. “I don’t want to fight with you, boy. Alright.”

They drive to a clearing in the woods Bobby suggested. The place seems good to Sam. It smells fresh there, and tall trees grow towards the sky. It’s calm and beautiful, hidden from sight. Sam doesn’t bother saying a word as he gets a shovel from the trunk and starts digging. Bobby follows him and sets to work on Sam’s side.  
Sam has dug many graves in his life. He lost count years ago. But this one, this right here, is more difficult than his first when he was too young to be put to such work. This is the hardest grave Sam has dug, and probably the hardest he ever will dig. Also, it’s daytime, which is rare on its own.

“We’re gonna need a coffin,” Bobby says.

Sam just nods and keeps on digging. Bobby gets up from the hole they’ve managed to get done and leaves. Sam digs. Every shovelful of dirt feels heavier than the last. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t lose his rhythm. He has to keep going. Bobby returns with some planks and starts to build. Sam shovels and feels sweat running down his back. He’s tired, so tired. His muscles ache, his eyes ache, his heart aches. His soul rings hollowly, part of it forever gone.

When it’s time, Bobby tries to help Sam lift his brother from the backseat, but Sam refuses. This belongs to him and him only. No matter how much Bobby cares about Dean, Sam cares more. Sam has never loved anyone like he loves Dean, and this is something that is Sam’s alone. Dean is his, his to carry, his to bury, his to save. His to lay down in a rough coffin. The tears start anew. Carefully Sam lets go of Dean and bites his lip. He shoves his hand in his pocket and feels the amulet digging into his fingers.

Sam can’t make himself close the lid of the coffin. He just simply can’t. His body refuses to co-operate, his hands shake and lose all their power. In the end it has to be Bobby who covers Dean from sight. Sam sits on the ground, shaking to his core. It feels so final, even though he will get Dean back. He staggers to his feet. Somehow he and Bobby manage to get the coffin down into the grave. There it stays, as if it didn’t hold Sam’s whole life inside.

Sam had thought, earlier, that seeing Dean’s last, painful seconds was the worst moment of his life. He had, a little later, thought it was the worst to wash Dean and carry him to the car. He had thought, mere minutes ago, that the worst part was closing the coffin, losing sight of Dean’s face.

In truth, the worst thing is filling up the grave. Sam fights through every movement. There’s a profound need to stop, to dig Dean back up, not to bury him under all that dirt. Instead, there’s more and more earth on top of the coffin, until it can no longer be seen. After a time that feels like an age, there is no hole in the ground anymore, just uneven, freshly dug earth. Sam throws his shovel away and screams. He has felt a lot of pain in his life, but none of it has ever come close to this. Bobby doesn’t say a word, but Sam sees him wiping his eyes and nose.

Sam finds some branches and uses the last nails Bobby had brought for the coffin to make a cross. Dean wouldn’t understand, he never had any faith, but Sam needs to do this just for himself. He doesn’t want to bury Dean into an unmarked grave. Sam will keep praying, even if Dean was taken from him, and then he will get his brother back one way or another.

Then, there’s nothing to do anymore.

Sam is at a loss. He doesn’t know where to go. This far, he has kept moving, because there were things to do. Now, there’s nothing. Sam isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Rationally, he knows he needs sleep, but he really doesn’t feel like sleeping. Sleeping is too much of a luxury at this point, a luxury he doesn’t deserve. Where Dean is, there is no sleeping.

Exhaustion claims Sam either way when he reaches the Impala.


	2. Chapter 2

_My dream, it seems, fails to see the mornings_

That night, Sam books a motel room after telling Bobby that he has to be alone. The clerk behind the counter looks at him wide-eyed when he walks in and asks if he needs to call someone. Only then Sam realizes what he must look like. He’s sweaty, dirty and bloody, his eyes barely stay open. His whole face must be puffy from all the crying he has done. His voice is hoarse and he can’t quite walk normally. He is also beyond exhausted even though he had a power nap in the car, and he has a raging headache.

“Just a room, please. Two queens.”

“Are you sure, sir? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sam snorts. No one can help him. “Just the room, so that I can sleep.”

He gets a key, and he leaves the office without a word. The room is the same every room is, and still different. No one steals the first shower from him, but that does not mean Sam showers. He stretches on the bed further from the door, and his feet hang off the end. He stays right where he is in his messed up clothes. Darkness has never been so dark, silence never as quiet. There’s nobody breathing, nobody snoring, nobody to turn over in his sleep. There’s just Sam, sleepless and tired.

Sam has never been good at sleeping alone. When he was a boy, he got used to sharing rooms and even beds with Dean. At Stanford he’d had roommates, then Jess. And when Dean came to get him from school, they had shared motel rooms again. Sam is used to other person noises and sounds in the room at night. He longs for that familiar presence of someone with him, so that he’s not completely alone. Somehow the motel room feels colder as well, colder than any place before. There’s no one else’s heat there but Sam’s.

After a while Sam climbs up and digs through Dean’s duffle. There are two bottles there, just like Sam thought there would be. Alcohol used to be Dad’s thing, and Dean’s. Sam doesn’t often feel the need to drink himself to oblivion, but now seems like a good time to do so. The cheap whiskey burns going down, but Sam welcomes the feeling.

He drinks until he passes out on the floor between the two beds.  
*  
There are about three blissful seconds when Sam wakes up and doesn’t know where he is. His head hurts something awful and that’s all he knows. Then it all comes crashing down on him, last night’s alcohol starting to pound even harder between his temples and his soul screeching with loss. Dean is not there to help him up, to mock him for drinking himself to this state. Dean is dead. The morning light seems pure evil shining into the room.

Sam throws up in the bathroom three times, until nothing comes out anymore. Then he sits there retching anyway, because Dean is in Hell and Sam is here and everything hurts. He dug a grave for his brother, and here he is now. His hands are shaking and in blisters, his arms and back ache, his eyes are sore.

There are tears mixed with bile in the toilet when he flushes. Even though Sam is crying constantly, he feels distant. Like he is watching himself from somewhere else, detached, as he stumbles back into the room and on the hard, too-short bed. The loneliness feels crushing. It’s overwhelming and large, looming over him. It makes the air too thick to breathe because Sam’s alone, so alone. No one will know what happens to him, no one will come to his rescue, no one will care. He is on his own, and it freaks him out.

He used to long for freedom. He used to want to make his own decisions alone and for himself, without anyone telling him how things should be done. Now he has freedom, but it smells of blood and it doesn’t feel like freedom at all. It feels like a prison made of echoing walls and no answers when he speaks. And it’s all his fault, Sam has to admit that much. He turned his back on Jake and got stabbed. He died, and Dean sacrificed himself. Even after that Sam was not able to get Dean out of his damned deal. It’s all Sam’s fault, and it breaks his heart to know that. He doesn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t ask for this life, this fate. All he wants is live his life with the people he loves, is that too much to ask for? Everyone he loves dies too soon.

The motel comforter is scratchy under him, the mattress hard. Sam stares at the ceiling and blinks away tears that stubbornly keep coming even though he feels dry. Dean was his only constant. The one thing in life that Sam truly, really loved anymore. And he still loves. Sam knows that his love will never leave him. He sure has tried to make it go away, but it won’t. Dean is everything even when Sam hates his guts. Dean was always there, no matter where Sam was, and that thought alone was a surprisingly good comfort when Sam had to leave Dean. Even when Sam was at Stanford, he found a safe place in thoughts of Dean.

Sam left because he had wanted to. The separation was not easy, but it was necessary. Sam hated hunting back then. He remembers how he had cried and laughed stepping off the bus and walking to campus. He had been relieved, he was out. He was ready to make something of himself. And at the same time, he had missed Dean like crazy. For his whole life Dean had been there, right next to him. In a way, it had been freeing to get away from Dean. Sam could be who he wanted to be, not what his brother thought he was. Sam sits up and opens the second bottle. He drinks straight from the bottle and decides to let himself wallow. In Stanford Dean had always been just one phone call away, even though Sam eventually stopped calling. Still Dean had been alive. Sam can’t make a phone call to Hell no matter how much he misses his brother.

He lies back down, contemplating his life and choices and trying to ignore every single thing he feels.

In the end he decides to get to a crossroads. He will deal Dean back. He tries to drink away his hangover and wipes away his tears every time they wet his face. He will make a deal. Dean always was the better man, Dean deserves to live. Sam stares at the empty bed between him and the door of the motel room. The bed that remains cold and empty. But for a while Sam can pretend that Dean’s just running on an errand or out there talking with witnesses. For a while everything can be almost okay. Except that it’s not. Sam knows where Dean is, and he’s not out there flirting with a hot roommate or consoling a weeping widow. Dean is burning up and inside out, and it’s Sam’s fault. Sam gets up and digs out his laptop. He needs a map to find a suitable place to have a little chat with a red-eyed bastard.  
*  
That night, Sam places a little tin into the ground and buries it with his bare hands. He lost one of his nails, it bleeds and stings, but he pays no attention to it. Instead, he takes a swig from his bottle, numbing everything, even though it doesn’t really help. He shouts into the sky. Let the demon come. Let the demon come and take him, take him down where he belongs with his dirty blood. Let Dean walk the earth, eat greasy diner food, burp and sing along to Metallica’s greatest hits in the Impala while driving into the sunset.

Sam turns when he hears a voice. A male voice. Huh, he used to think they were all female. The demon tries to chit-chat but Sam doesn’t want to listen. He has one goal and one goal only. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass if the demon thinks he looks terrible. He hasn’t showered, he wasted the day away drinking and feeling miserable. He does not care. His brother is dead.

But, if it’s up to Sam, that won’t be the case for long.

Then, the demon cuts the bullshit. “Not gonna happen.”

Sam shoves the knife through the demons hand, holds it in place, huffs out a breath. He explodes, shouts into the silent evening, just take him, just take him instead and let Dean walk. But the demon refuses, and that’s new. Crossroads demons make deals. That’s their job. This trade he’s suggesting is fair, Sam knows it. Any Winchester in Hell is a win to demons. Sam doesn’t get it. Why can’t he just make this damn deal? His wrath escapes him suddenly, making way to confusion.

“Why? Just let Dean go, you can have me.”

The demon just shakes his head. Says that everything is like they want it to be, and Sam does not understand. Why would demons want Dean? Dean is the golden boy, Dean is the perfect hunter. Sam is the freak, the meant-to-be leader of a demon army. Why does Hell not want him, when just a year ago Azazel was all about him? It makes no sense. The demon taunts him, tells Sam to kill.

Sam does as he is told. He stabs the demon in the chest, looking at the yellow glare with no satisfaction. Blood spills onto the table. Sam carries the body into the trees, not bothering to hide it. The place is remote, maybe someone will happen upon the corpse in a while. He doesn’t really have it in him to care.

Sam walks away and his heart is breaking, again, but at the same time his fogged mind is working overtime. Demons lie, Sam, says a voice in his head that sounds like Dean. But this was no lie. Sam knows it deep down. The demon told the truth, because it knew it would stick with Sam, make him uncomfortable. Sam kicks at a rock angrily and it flies into the bushes. The sound of it falling crashes through the night.

Sam looks up, but there are no stars. He and Dean used to look at the stars, see eternity and feel small. The sky offers no comfort, so Sam shoves his hands into his pockets and marches on.  
*  
Sam is sloppy, he admits that much, when the demon grabs his hair and the blows he received still sting in his midsection. Sam recognizes Ruby instantly when she goes for the knife, no matter that she’s got a new vessel to wear. She’s back, even though he can’t understand how it can be. She’s back to kill Sam this time. Sam does not care. If this is his one ticket out, he’ll take it gladly. He’ll take it and maybe in death he will stop hurting so bad. He almost jumps at Ruby, can’t wait for the final moments of his life, the last sting before blissful oblivion. Ruby only meets his eyes, and there’s no bravado there, no glee in her. She lifts the knife and stabs the other demon instead of Sam.

Sam stares at the body on the ground. That’s the second body tonight. It should have been him.

He does not understand Ruby’s actions, but then, there never was a time he really understood where she was coming from. She makes no sense, she seems to just do whatever she pleases, however she wants to – and that’s not what other demons usually want. She helps Sam, and no demon ever has been like that.

“Let’s go,” Ruby says, and Sam obeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the episode I Know What You Did Last Summer (4x09).


	3. Chapter 3

_On the sea of wishes / My dream that no one misses / tears me apart always somehow_

Sam tells Ruby to leave after she says that she can’t help him save Dean. Sam does not need a demon riding shotgun if they’re of no use. He doesn’t need company or consolation; he doesn’t need empty chatter to fill up the air around him. He needs time to think, time to plan, to find a way to Hell and to Dean. If he has to dig his way through stone he will do it. He will get to Dean. He will get his brother back. There is no other option. Sam refuses to think about anything else.

He finds an empty shack that’s barely together, some hours away from the motel room and the body. Sun shines through one wall of the house and the wind blows inside but Sam doesn’t deserve any better. Besides, when he squats, he saves money. He sets camp, going through the motions. Guns, clothes, there’s a slightly moldy bed to sleep on. Bottles of alcohol, clear and strong, that he bought at a liquor store on the way. He needs the numbness it brings. He can’t sleep unless he drinks himself unconscious. He doesn’t care.

That first night there, he drinks and drinks. At some point, really early or really late, depending on how you look at things, he loses himself to dark oblivion.

*

Next day is bright, too bright on Sam’s eyes. He stays in place because he doesn’t have a clear plan or a clear head. He thinks he’s still drunk from before. He sets to cleaning his guns. The familiar motions are somewhat soothing, even if his mind races to dark and bloody places with no hope left. He doesn’t need to concentrate on the maintaining of his weapons because he’s been doing it for so long. It gives something for his hands to do, but his mind won’t stand still. His thoughts swirl around, to Dean, to the failed deal, and to Ruby.

Why did the demon return to him? He’s still not quite sure what to think of her. She has saved him, and Dean, several times now. She’s intelligent and Sam has found her words entertaining before. She’s a familiar figure in this mess, a presence in his loneliness. He almost regrets sending her away because he hates being so alone. He’s not sure what to do with himself now that he’s on his own. Without Dean. He refuses to feel like a small child, left alone in a motel room, waiting for his dad and brother to return. He does not think of that, he does not think of lonely hours of the night, in bed in the dark, scared of every sound.

A sudden banging on the door gets him moving from his guns. No one should know he’s here; this is just an empty sorry house with no neighbors nearby. Sam grabs a shotgun and goes to the door. He’s not sure what to expect. Has someone come to drive him away? There’s no one close so how did they find him? He sets the gun against the door. Someone might die in his hands, again. He opens the door to find a tiny brunette on the other side with an important looking paper in her hands.  
He recognizes her even though she’s in a new body. It’s Ruby. Somehow this meat suit is more attractive than the last ones, Sam notes vaguely. She saunters in and keeps on talking. It’s odd to have someone else in his space after the endless days he’s spent alone. Sam is not even sure how long it’s been. Only days, he thinks. It can’t be more than that.

Sam is still torn. He wants her company, and at the same time he wants her gone. Dean hated her, told Sam time and again not to trust a demon. But Dean’s not here and Sam is tired of feeling helpless. He can’t help feeling the comfort of someone familiar close by, even if it’s a demon. “Why are you here?” he asks her. She wouldn’t come to him without reason no matter who she is.

“Look, I can’t get Dean back.” Sam rolls his eyes at her. That much is already clear, no need to rub salt in his wounds. “But I can get you something else that you want.”

Ruby’s words are not helping. Sam doesn’t want anything but his brother. End of story. She has nothing to offer him.

“And what’s that?” Sam asks, full of doubt, humoring her. He hates that she’s baiting him like this. It’s not fair. She should get to the point already or go away and leave him in peace.

“Lilith.”

That one word sobers Sam up instantly. Lilith. The demon that held Dean’s contract. The very same demon Sam couldn’t kill or even find until it was too late. The sole reason why Dean’s in Hell. Ruby does make her case interesting, and she’s got Sam’s full attention now. Maybe he does want Lilith. Maybe, if he can’t save Dean, he can still get his revenge on the demon responsible. He looks at Ruby, remembers her words from Dean’s dying day. It’s clear that Ruby is gearing up to ask him something she doubts he’ll agree to. This is the only thing Sam can think of. If using his powers will help him get Lilith to pay for Dean’s fate, then so be it. Sam does not care, and this is the only good thing he’s heard in days. This means he can actually do something instead of sitting on his ass and drinking himself stupid. This means he has a meaning again, a purpose. He’ll take what he can get.

“You want me to use my psychic whatever.”

“Look, I know that it spooks you…”

“Skip the speech,” Sam intervenes. “I’m ready.” He looks on as Ruby stares at him, astonished. But he needs this more than he needs air to breathe. He needs to have a destination, something to work towards. He’s more than ready to quit chasing his tail. This might actually lead to something, this might be good. He can rid the world of an upper scale demon and at the same time he can get his own revenge, his own mission. It can all be over, just like that. “Let’s go.”

“Slow down there, cowboy,” Ruby says. The words could have come out of Dean’s mouth and they sting and soothe Sam at the same time. Something familiar. He aches. He needs to move, now. He needs Ruby to tell him more.

“Just tell me what I have to do.”

Ruby sits down, looks him in the eye and tells him about Lilith planning something apocalyptic big. Sam feels a tug in his chest. He needs to do this. He can maybe finally find his salvation, help people, and help Dean. Maybe this is his purpose, this right here. He will kill Lilith. He tells Ruby as much, but Ruby’s not buying it. She doesn’t want him to half-ass it. Sam ignores the hurt he feels at her words. They are not meant to accuse him of anything. She seems a bit too intense suddenly, wanting to take her time. He lets her be. She’s never been exactly clear to him, so why would she be that now?

“Okay. What do you want from me?” Sam asks as he lifts the bottle to his lips.

“A little patience,” Ruby says and doesn’t sound too patient herself. She looks as Sam drinks from his bottle. “And sobriety.”

Sam makes a face at that. He’s not that bad… yet at least. What of it, if the room spins around him the tiniest bit when he moves his head?

“Promise me that, and I will teach you everything I know.” Ruby looks like she means it. Sam doesn’t really have a choice, if he wants her to help him. He needs help, and he wants to defeat Lilith. He needs to agree to her terms.

He sets the bottle on the table and challenges her with a look. “Fine.”

Ruby collects the bottles away. Sam sits down and looks at her walking around. This new meat suit is cute. She’s tiny, and her attitude shines through intense, dark eyes. He enjoys looking at her, he notices absently. She moves with quiet confidence, carries herself with ease. She’s somewhat admirable.

“So, where do we start?” Sam asks. He’s almost too eager, but he needs something to do, damn it.

“You’re drunk,” Ruby says.”We’ll see about this more tomorrow. You need to sleep it off first.”

It’s not that late, only early afternoon, if Sam’s right. “Now?” he asks and huffs a laugh.

Ruby only shrugs her shoulders, and even that small gesture is all Dean’s nonchalance that only covers something deeper. Why does Sam keep seeing Dean in Ruby’s every move?

“Sleep it off now?” Sam repeats.

“When was the last time you properly slept, Sam?” Ruby asks levelly. Sam can’t see her face and can’t figure out what her tone means. He starts to answer only to realize that he doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t really sleep during Dean’s last week, desperately trying to save his brother, practically running on fumes. Sam thinks further back. He did have a restful night at Christmas, in the decorated motel room, warm and cozy with his brother. He had fallen asleep on the couch, head on Dean’s shoulder. Safe.

There’s no safety anymore, in a world where Dean doesn’t walk around teasing Sam about his choice of coffee. Sam pushes back the tears that threaten him again. He won’t cry in front of Ruby. Besides, he has a purpose now. He has to focus and learn whatever she wants him to. Crying won’t help him.

“I can’t remember,” Sam says finally.

Ruby turns to face him. “Sam, you’re a wreck. You look like death warmed over. I need you on your feet if I’m going to teach you anything. So, go sleep.”

Sam snorts. A demon is lecturing him.

“You need to be alert and ready when I begin to train you,” Ruby continues. She looks very sincere. How does a demon look that sincere, Sam wonders. When he just stares at her a while longer, she lifts an eyebrow.

“Fine.” Sam clambers up and finds his way to the other room, the one with the moldy bed and his sleeping bag. He is tired, he can admit that much. He refuses to think of Dean, ignores the pain in his soul as he sheds his jeans and slides into the sleeping bag. It smells vaguely of Dean. Sam breathes deep and closes his eyes. He feels like he’s spinning around.

He doesn’t want to live like this. He doesn’t really want to be the wreck he has become, but this is all he deserves. He didn’t save Dean. He doesn’t know how to live with himself. He has noticed that he needs other people around, even if that other people is just Dean. He needs someone to keep him occupied or he goes crazy. He hates it. Sam hasn’t really been alone that much. When he was young, Dean and dad were there most of the time. At school, he wasn’t really alone, not for long at least. And then, Dean, again, Dean, just Dean, all the time. Dean in his space constantly, a little too close; so much so that Sam had to sit on his hands and grind his teeth sometimes. But now he’d give anything to have Dean breathing an arm’s length away, no matter how much it might pain his self-control.

Sam can’t live like this. Luckily, he doesn’t have to. He’s on a path already, and it ends in his death. The sooner it happens, the better for him and everyone else.

*

When Sam wakes up, it’s hard to open his eyes. They feel hot and swollen, even more so than during the last week. He has an awful taste in his mouth and a dull thumping in his skull. Still, he feels oddly rested. He manages to crack his eyes open and it’s dark. It’s night still. Sam’s not sure how many hours he slept, but he knows that it’s more than he’s had in a while.

Sam gets up and wanders out of the room. He’s sleepy, but he can’t lie still. The place is quiet. There’s no sign of Ruby anywhere. A cold wind freezes Sam’s toes, makes him shiver. Sam finds a bottle of water on the table, a small miracle in itself. He thought he only had alcohol. Water makes his mouth taste even worse. He sits on the chair, head too full, aching. He’s still groggy, not sure if he wants to be awake at all. He closes his eyes against the pain, just for a little while.

*  
“DEAN!”

Sam wakes up to his own scream. He can’t remember exactly what the dream was about, but he’s still shaking with its remnants. Dean’s face is right there in his mind, so close, so far away. He tries to breathe, but can’t. It feels like all his insides have clenched tight, one giant knot under his ribs. He holds on to the chair and closes his eyes. Tries to take deep, calm breaths. His heart is racing and he’s sweaty, he almost wishes he could remember what the dream was about if it left him like this, a shattered mess.

That’s how Ruby finds him, returning from wherever she had been. More light seeps inside, it’s not night anymore. Some bird sings loudly outside, the sound the only thing Sam can focus on for a moment.

“Morning, Sammy,” Ruby says as she steps closer.

Sam flinches away from her touch on his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he grits out, answer to the question she didn’t ask. “When do we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the episode I Know What You Did Last Summer (4x09).


	4. Chapter 4

_If your heart can hear a song, you can’t go wrong_

“There’s this place inside of you, Sam, isn’t there?” Ruby starts. They’re sitting by the table, empty takeout containers between them. It’s early afternoon, sunlight is seeping into the room and making dust glow in the air.

“What place exactly?” Sam asks, licking the salt from his fingers. The French fries had tasted like heaven, and he almost wishes there was more. He hasn’t been eating too well lately, and he knows it, but eating properly felt like too much of a luxury.

“A dark corner of your mind, a little nook to stuff all your anger in.”

Oh. So they are talking about Sam’s powers. “I guess.”

“Do you remember what it was like, using your powers before?”

Sam remembers. He remembers headaches and fear. He remembers waking up in cold sweat and knowing that whoever died in his dreams was a real, living person about to get killed. He remembers his fear for Dean’s life in Max’s closet and the moving shelf. He remembers how he was afraid of himself, how he was sure, deep inside, that he was evil and about to turn into a monster. He remembers begging Dean to kill him, and Dean promising him that just because. Dean never meant it. Dean was never going to kill Sam. Sam swallows the tears that are right there, under the surface. Not now. He will not break now.

“It was never something I could control. It always just happened,” Sam says quietly.

“That’s why I’m here,” Ruby says. Her tone is warm, a little too warm. “I can help you control it.”

Sam closes his eyes. The others in Cold Oak had learned to use their powers. The other special children, all dead now, they had used their powers to summon demons and who knows what else. Sam remembers how Ava’s friendly face had transformed right in front of his eyes. Ava had said she’d been there, training, for months. Ever since she disappeared on Sam she’d been taking control of her powers. And then she just died. Sam shakes his head to get rid of the memories. He can’t doubt this now. This is the only way to get something out of the mess his life has become.

“So help me, then,” Sam says. He doesn’t really want to become what Ava turned into, like something other than human, but what choice does he have? It’s his fault that Dean died. He doesn’t get to decide. If something good can come out of Dean’s deal, that good is killing Lilith and getting payback. And he will get it.

“I’m trying to right now. I want you to look into that place, Sam. I want you to feel all the things that you’ve locked away. You have to face it before you’ll be able to use it.”

Sam bites his lip.

“Reach for your anger,” Ruby whispers. “That’ll help unleash the rest. And when you’ve found it, you have to learn how to control it and make it work like you want it to.”

“I’m so tired, Ruby,” Sam says, gets up and walks away from the table. “I don’t know if I have the energy to get angry.”

Ruby snorts. “Do you want to kill Lilith or not?” She’s baiting him, again.

“Of course I do!” Sam turns on his heel and stares at her. He hates that he’s so easy when it comes to her. She has a way of getting under his skin.

“So, get angry! You have to be able to get to that place, to be able to channel your powers at least a little before we get you a demon to train on.”

Sam stops, freezes on the spot. “What? What is it you want me to do exactly?” Train on a demon? What the hell does that even mean? He’s not sure he’s into this, after all.

Ruby sighs. “I was going to take baby steps with you, but you’re not making that easy right now.”

“Tell me what I’m supposed to learn to do!” Sam shouts. This is about him; he has a right to know. If he has to be the one to do something, then she can damn well tell him what it is.

Ruby smirks. “See? There’s the anger right there.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sam shakes his head. This is unbelievable. How is he supposed to learn anything from this? Ruby is being ridiculous.

“No. You just have to find the source within yourself.” Ruby gets up. Sam’s still not over how small she is. She saunters over to Sam and looks up at him with dark eyes. Human dark, though, not demon black. She pokes him in the chest. “You need to work on yourself.”

Sam huffs a sigh. “Tell me what I’m supposed to be doing after I find that place you keep droning on about.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “I told you that I want you to be patient. This is not patience.”

Sam strides away from her. He’s done. He’s just so fucking done with all of this.

He sits on the bed and leans his elbows on his knees. Ruby must be the crappiest teacher ever. And well, Sam knows that he is not being the best student, but how is he supposed to do anything if he doesn’t even know what that is? He closes his eyes and reaches for the place of darkness that’s always been there, just like she told him to. It’s all he can do, really. Try to finally do something. If this is supposed to help him, he might as well give it a try. He’s not sure it’ll work, but he’s humoring her anyway. What else can he do?

He has always been angry. He has always felt like a freak, like something dirty and unwanted. It manifested itself best when he was a teenager, when he was fighting with Dad just because he could. Because nothing ever went like he wanted it to go. He had turned vicious right when he hadn’t had the need to be nice that all children have anymore, and before he had the control of an adult. He had lashed out, again and again, sometimes over nothing, sometimes about something that actually mattered. School, friends, food, homework, normality. Cleaning guns, washing clothes, moving about all the time. Sharing everything with Dean. He had wanted to let out all he had inside, but nothing ever really helped, no matter how he yelled or cursed or banged doors to walls. And some things he couldn’t even voice in his head and those made him angrier than anything else.

But it’s not that just anger that he’s hiding and Ruby is wrong if she thinks that Sam’s powers arise from anger only. There are so many feelings he hasn’t been allowed to have in his life, so many feelings he’s had to repress and put away until he doesn’t remember how to properly express them anymore. The feelings weigh him down even if he has locked them away long ago. He has felt small and insecure, but he wasn’t really allowed to be that way – he was a boy who had to fight. He has loved, he has yearned for closeness that he was denied. And all those feelings he has had to put away, hide them and lock them deep, and they are in the same place within him. The hidden powers are right there, under the same lock, and now he realizes he has the key to them all. He hasn’t been able to control his life, so he has turned off so many things any normal person can be and feel. Feeling his feelings can be control, too, he sees now. Letting himself feel all the stupid, useless emotions he hasn’t been able to is freeing him.

He’s been dragged along his entire life, first by Dad, then by Dean. By these damned powers, by demons, and death. But now, Ruby is willing to give control to him. Finally Sam can decide for himself. Finally he has the chance to be his own man, under no one’s command but his own. Ruby is just helping him to get there. Fine. Sam will be a better student, he will be more patient. He rubs his hands down his face. Fine. He’ll do this. For Dean, but mostly, for himself. He gets up, stands straight and lifts his head. Fine. He has found his anger, alright. He has found the place, and the feeling seeps into his muscles. His mouth is a thin line, his hands are tight fists, and he can’t even help it. He feels like he’s going to combust – there’s too much of everything inside of him.

Ruby looks at him carefully when he sits down by the table. A slow smile brightens her cute face.

“I take it you’ve found the place?”

“At least parts of it,” Sam says carefully. He can feel something underneath his skin, faint, but there. He never would have thought unleashing himself would be that easy. He never thought this was right under the lock he’d kept closed. His own overly tight control was what had kept the powers at bay after Azazel had been killed. He’d known, deep down, what was inside. He had decided to keep it hidden. He had craved to be without it. But now he can’t really see why. If this is being evil, it’s not too different from what he’s always been. He’s free.

“Lift your hand towards me,” Ruby says. “Try to feel me out a little.”

Sam looks at her. “I, what?” He kind of doesn’t want to admit how much he wants to touch her, and she just… sees it all?

Ruby laughs. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Lift your hand and focus your energy to it. Then, try if you could maybe feel my… essence. Try to control your feelings, and make that feeling listen to you.”

Sam lifts his arm and extends his hand. He stares at Ruby. He focuses, keeps staring at her. He tries to do what she said, put his energy into one place. His blood is rushing in his ears, he can feel his heart beating. But he really can’t feel anything else. He tries to get the tingling under his skin to settle, to reach it out, but nothing happens. He keeps on searching.

Suddenly, awful piercing pain goes through his skull and he has to hold his head between his hands. It hurts like a motherfucker, even worse than the headaches he used to get after a premonition. He can’t help the whimper that escapes out of his mouth. He’s distantly aware of Ruby rubbing his shoulders. He’s blinded in agony, lost.

“You did well,” Ruby says. “You’re just not used to this, so your body might take a while to adjust.”

Sam just moans in answer.

*

The headache follows Sam all day and leaves him vaguely sick. He loathes the feeling. It reminds him too much of the headaches he used to have before. The ones that meant that someone was going to die soon.

This time no one is dying, though. Not because of this, not right now. Dean has already died, and Lilith hasn’t yet. Sam feels inadequate, just like he hadn’t been able to save yet another soul. That is what the pain in his head reminds him of. His own failure. We can’t save everyone, Sammy. He can almost hear Dean’s words, his no-nonsense tone and see his big, earnest eyes. Nausea returns with a vengeance.

“I need to do this,” Sam says to Ruby. She’s sitting on the sad excuse of a couch and reading some book Sam had left lying around, something on demons. Why would a demon read about demons? The thought is the most amusing thing Sam’s felt in a long while, and it makes him smile a little. Suddenly Sam realizes how not alone he is. Since Ruby came, he hasn’t felt that crushing silence weighing him down. He feels better, even if he’s in pain.

“Yeah,” Ruby acknowledges.

“I need to do this. For him.” He can’t say Dean’s name out loud, he just… it’s too much. Saying even this much hurts, it makes it too real. He instantly wishes he hadn’t said it at all.

Ruby smiles softly. “For Dean, but also for the world, Sam. You’ll be killing a big ass bitch for good.”

“That’s what you’re going to teach me, then? How to kill a demon?” She still hasn’t said what exactly she wants Sam to do with his powers. The endgame was to get to Lilith, but Sam needs her to say it clearer.

“To kill, and to pull as well. When you get better, you’ll be able to pull a demon out of its host. And guess what? You won’t be hurting the host while doing so.” Ruby’s face tells him she knows exactly how Sam takes this news. She knows how much that means to him.

Sam spends a while just looking at her. He didn’t have any idea that he could do something like that. How many times has he mourned the person inside the demon he was after? He needs to learn this. He can save more people; he can actually do something good for a change. For so long he has felt like most of the problems he and his family faced were his fault. But now… now he can start solving problems instead. Why did he ever think his powers were only evil? Of course, their source is not holy by any means, but that doesn’t mean that Sam can’t use them to do some good.

It’s all about choices anyway. That’s what he’s been telling others, telling himself. He can choose to be good; he can choose not to turn evil. His fate is in his hands and his hands alone. He knows how this goes down, now. He will practice with Ruby. He will pull as many demons as they can get to until they find Lilith. When they do, he’ll end the bitch. And then, then he can maybe finally rest easy. His life’s purpose will be fulfilled, and he will no longer be needed. He knows it with sudden clarity, and he feels light for the first time in forever. He doesn’t have to live like this much longer, only long enough. He goes to sit next to her.

“Teach me.”

Ruby snorts. “Patience, remember? You shouldn’t bust your head off this early. I know you have a headache.”

Sam knows she’s right, but he wishes he could be doing something right now. Sitting still doesn’t work for him. He just wants it all to be over for good and waiting around makes everything ten times worse.

“I can tell you something, though,” Ruby says when Sam doesn’t answer.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where your powers come from?” Ruby asks.

Her gaze is intense and Sam can’t look at her. She’s too much, too close, and her eyes unnerve him. Sam shakes his head and grimaces at the blunt points of ache that follow the movement. Then he gets up from the couch and walks to the other end of the room, past the fireplace and rubs his hands to his face. Even more memories he’d rather forget. Azazel showed it to him, in a dream in Cold Oak. Demon blood. He has demon blood in him. Maybe all the wicked things he hates about himself are there because of this. He leans on the wall and stares at the floorboards beneath his feet. He remembers standing in a dream right next to the demon he had spent his entire life hunting, and said demon showing him how thick, dark blood, drop by drop, ended up in baby Sam’s mouth.

“It’s Azazel’s blood,” he says finally.  
“Yes. He did it to test you.”

“Test me,” he almost spits at Ruby. He knew that much, he was supposed to be strong, blah, blah. There’s one thing he doesn’t know, though. “Why me?”

“You already know he had a whole generation of children,” Ruby says.

“Yeah. But why me? Why them?” The demon had never told Sam that. He only showed him what happened in the nursery and didn’t explain the hows or the whys behind it.

Ruby takes a deep breath, audible in the silence that hangs between them. “Your mother made a deal. I don’t know the details, but that’s how he got all his children.”  
Sam feels like the whole world just tilted on its axis. His mother, pure, normal, civilian Mary, made a deal with a demon. That’s why she had known Azazel when she walked into the nursery, that’s why she died. Sam is what Azazel had taken, but in change of what? What had Sam’s mother traded him for?

“That’s all you know?” he asks. He can barely maintain his calm. There’s a whirlwind of emotions dancing inside him, and he doesn’t know what to feel, or how.  
“That’s all I know,” Ruby confirms.

“What did she get? What did she need so bad that she sold her son?” Sam can’t keep the questions inside. He needs to know. He looks at Ruby sharply. She’s leaning her elbow to the armrest, fingers on her face. Sam can’t tell if she’s lying about knowing nothing more. She has an excellent poker face.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Ruby only says. If she has answers, she’s not giving them to him.

“So, you’re saying that yellow-eyes made a deal with my mother and wanted me in exchange of – something or other that mom apparently needed more than me. And, he bled in my mouth,” oh he needs to puke, “to test me and to give me powers so that I could be his army’s leader. And now he’s dead and you want me to use these powers to kill Lilith.” It’s insane. It makes no sense whatsoever. Sam has to close his eyes. What does this have to do with anything now, anyway? Azazel is dead and his plans are all over. Sam’s the last man standing.

“Yeah, I think that’s it. That is where your powers come from, and this is what you’re going to do with them.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Sam grits out.

“I wanted to know how much of yourself you were aware of,” Ruby says. “If you hadn’t already known about it, I would’ve told you.”

“Why?” Sam knows he’s all questions, but then, he does deserve some answers by now. He’s been yanked on a chain his whole life, and he’s tired. No one ever really cares as long as he just comes along. He can’t take that from Ruby. He won’t take that from Ruby.

“Don’t you think it’s important to know where all this is coming from?” Ruby asks him. “If you know what you’re dealing with, even somewhat, it makes it easier.”

Sam huffs, hugs himself small.

Ruby gets up and walks to him. Her eyes are large and full of sympathy Sam’s not sure she’s capable of. She’s too tempting, and he has to look away.

“I’m here with you, Sam. I’m with you all the way, and I’ll help you every way I can. I will answer your questions whenever I’m able to. I’ll listen if you want to talk about something.” She slaps his arm playfully. “I’m not here just on business. I like you.”

Sam chooses to fool himself and believes her.


	5. Chapter 5

_Fill your deepest wishes / Come take my poison kisses_

They have been practicing for a week or so. Sam’s headache is almost constant, he barely notices it anymore. He’s been chugging down painkillers like candy and sleeping like the dead, only to wake up missing Dean, a hole where his heart used to be. He ignores that as well.

Ruby’s there, though, talking to him, egging him on. He can now feel Ruby, a shifting, malevolent almost-substance, when he focuses his power right. That’s when Ruby tells him it’s time to find him a demon he can pull, and she knows exactly where to find one.

“There’s a suitable son of a bitch just an hour away,” she tells him that afternoon.

“Let’s go,” Sam says immediately. There’s no hesitation in him now. Finally, finally he can do something. He’s almost missed the active hunting during their downtime in the shack of a house – too much sitting around, the walls falling in on him.

The drive to the small town is quiet. Sam is eager, and a bit nervous, to get there. He doesn’t waste time talking about it. The Impala is a familiar comfort around him, and he almost feels safe for a while. It feels good to be on the move. Just driving down a road in the light of a setting sun… but Dean’s not there. The thought ruins his almost-good mood like a punch in the gut. Dean is still in Hell. Sam must not lose sight of that. That’s where he’ll follow his brother once Lilith has been turned to dust.

Ruby directs him to a shady looking bar. Why is it always the shady bars, Sam wonders idly as he parks the car and follows Ruby into the dark building. The bar is dimly lit. There are some people, but it can’t be called a crowd. Country music plays softly in the background and a bearded man stands behind the bar giving drinks to customers.

“A new guy has been frequenting this place for two weeks now,” Ruby tells Sam as they find a table. “All signs point at him.”

Sam believes her, doesn’t ask any questions. He gets a beer, but drinks slowly.

After an hour, Ruby points Sam’s attention to a bald guy who walks to the counter. He looks like a normal person to Sam. A little on the short side, short beard, dark clothes. He orders a drink and stays to nurse it there. Sam starts getting restless when nothing happens. Ruby places a hand on his.

“Calm down. He either uses the restroom or leaves, and that’s when we move.”

“Right.” Sam stares at her hand. It’s so warm and tiny against his. He kind of wants to take Ruby’s hand, hold it a little while. He feels dizzy. This is how starved for contact he is. Ruby looks great in the leather jacket, dark hair shining in the low lights. Sam stops that train of thought right there. He’s not that desperate. He can’t want Ruby. She’s a demon, and there are lines Sam doesn’t want to cross. He is not going to want a demon, even if said demon has been there for him better than many humans.

“Now. Go!” Ruby interrupts Sam’s thoughts. Their guy is heading towards the bathroom. Sam nods, gets up and makes a show of it, smiling to Ruby before turning around. He walks across the room and looks as casual as possible. He feels the thrill of the hunt – it’s been a while, and Sam can honestly say that a part of him has missed this. No matter how much he hated hunting, this is how he was raised, and he understands why Dean gets off on the adrenaline.

It’s almost too easy to corner the demon. Sam has a rope he doused in holy water, and it seems to do the trick. The demon doesn’t put up a fight that would cause too much notice in others, and seems to be content spilling out curses when Sam escorts him outside. He hopes and prays that all the other people inside only saw him as someone helping a drunken friend home.

It’s late, almost 1 am. The street is silent, no one’s outside, windows on either side are closed and dark. Sam feels like there has to be a catch hidden somewhere, because this is never as easy as today. He forces the demon into the trunk, bound by the devil’s trap there. Ruby walks out just as Sam has closed him inside.

“Great,” Ruby says. “Now, let’s go see what you can do.”

They spend the drive listening to the demon raging in the trunk. Even radio won’t erase the sounds as he keeps on trashing. Ruby doesn’t comment on it, and Sam decides to ignore what’s going on. There’s a person there, too, but he’s a person Sam means to save before the night is over. There’s still hope for him.  
Once they get back to the shack, the preparations go quickly. Ruby lights a fire into the fireplace as Sam draws a devil’s trap on the floor and drags a chair in the middle of it. He takes a deep breath. This is it. This is his first step towards his goal. He paces a bit while Ruby fetches the demon inside, and then Sam shoves him into the chair and ties him up.

Sam looks at the demon. He looks like an ordinary guy, but there’s an evil glint in his eyes as he looks at Sam. He’s not saying a word. Sam tries to focus, but he’s nervous. This has to work. He has to make it happen. He reaches for that place inside, like he has done in the past days. The darkness, the almost-there tingling, the black part in the back of his mind comes to the forefront almost without effort. He looks at Ruby, who nods, just a fraction. Do it.

He raises his hand towards the demon, focuses his energy into that hand and out. He can feel the demon, just like he felt Ruby, but something in this one is different. Sam won’t dwell on that. Instead he grabs and pulls. His headache returns, starts from his temples, but he pays no mind to it. He keeps pulling, almost forgetting to breathe, and suddenly there’s black smoke coming out of the host’s mouth. Sam feels a tiny twinge of victory, but it soon vanishes. It’s so hard to hold on to the demon, it’s fighting to stay in the host, it’s pulling the other way, and Sam’s hold could as well be nonexistent. He lets go, and the pain in his head almost takes the better of him. He won’t stop now, though. He does not leave a job half done no matter how much he hurts. Determined, he lifts his hand again, and pulls harder and before. He pulls with everything he’s got, his head feels like it’s on fire, but the demon is almost out, more out than it was on his first try. He keeps pulling, keeps trying, but the pain overwhelms him. He realized his letting out little sounds, and then, it’s like a lightening through his skull. He can’t hold on to the demon, he has to let go and push his palms against his temples even though he knows it won’t stop the pain.

The demon laughs at him, and Sam feels like he deserves it. He’s too weak, he’s always been too weak, he can’t even pull one lower-class demon. Ruby stabs their prisoner, and the demon is gone, but so is the host. Sam did not save an innocent man. Instead he’s the reason he died. There’s literal blood on Sam’s face, dripping from his nose on his lips, and figurative blood on his hands. Again.

Sam scratches away the paint so that Ruby can get out of the trap, and lets her carry the body away. The pain is not his sole focus anymore, but it’s still worse than he remembers it ever being. He can hardly stay on his feet. Slowly, slowly it eases, loses its intensity.

He goes to get a shovel and follows her outside. There are no other houses or buildings nearby, so it’s easy to just pick a spot and begin. They take turns digging, and after that, filling up the grave. Sam can’t escape the memories of the last time he did this. Last time he dug a grave, it was for Dean. Last time he filled up a grave, he buried his brother. He won’t let his tears fall, but he won’t talk to Ruby, either. Ruby is murmuring curses at the other demon for laughing, complaining about the dirt, and Sam knows she’s trying to distract him. It doesn’t work completely, though. Dean is still right there, this hole in the ground could just as well be the one Sam dug with aching hands and a broken heart. His hands are shaking slightly. How can he keep on going, digging graves, if every single new grave is the one he put his brother in? Every grave is like the he left somewhere in Indiana. He swallows, throws the last shovelful of dirt down and lifts the shovel on his shoulder. Dean is dead, Dean lies in a grave Sam filled up just like this one. Dean is not here, Dean won’t be there to give him painkillers and tell him to lie down.

They get back inside, and Sam goes right to his duffel to find some aspirin. His head is killing him.

“Just give it time, Sam. It’ll get better.” Ruby’s voice is careful, sympathetic, even.

Sam can’t take that. He doesn’t want that. He’s not a child to be coddled. He knows he failed, and he can deal with that himself.

“What, I need more practice?” he asks, taking the pills in his mouth and holding them there.

“I’m not talking about pulling demons,” Ruby says and watches as Sam swallows the aspirin down with liquor and sits down. Sam has a bad feeling about this.

“I know losing Dean is –“

“Hey,” Sam lifts a finger. He won’t listen to her say those words. He will not. He’s also a little scared how perceptive she is. Did she see right through him? Does she see right now? “I don’t wanna talk about it.” It’s like a festering wound right where his heart used to be. He might think about it most of the time, it’s behind his every action, his every breath, but he does not want to talk about it. Besides, Ruby is the very last person he thought would give him this speech to try and console him.  
He faces Ruby again. “You know what? Where do you get off slapping me with that greeting card time heals crap? What the hell do you know?” She’s a damn demon. And she definitely should not look so offended. Sam’s words hold no power over her, but she acts well. A small voice in Sam’s head insists that she’s not just making this up, but he can’t quite believe himself.

“I used to be human,” she says, and Sam feels like laughing. He stares at her, mouth open. “And I still remember what it’s like to lose someone.” She shouldn’t look so sad, as if she could feel any of the pain he’s going through. As if she’s ever felt the kind of pain Sam feels all the time. But she does, her doe eyes shining a little. Sam can’t look away. Then Ruby steps closer, into his space, reaches out to touch his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam pulls away, makes a protesting noise. No. He doesn’t need her sympathy. “”Don’t.”

She looks at him, face so open, it’s almost unbelievable that she’s evil, that she’s anything other than human. Her eyes stray to his lips, and Sam shakes his head, feels the tears right there, ready to fall if he lets them. “I can’t.” He isn’t sure what he means, exactly. He can’t talk about Dean, he can’t take her comfort, he can’t let her any closer, take your pick.

“Sam, you’re not alone,” Ruby says, and then her lips are on his. Sam answers to the kiss before he realizes what he’s doing, and then he pushes her away. There are a million things on his mind right now, but mostly just what the fuck.

“What are you doing?” he demands her, walking away, needing space. He wants her, he does, but he knows that he shouldn’t. It’s wrong, and he won’t. His body is reacting against his will, his mind losing to his instincts.

“Sam, it’s okay,” Ruby says and sounds husky, urgent.

“No, that is anything but okay.” Sam sits on the sorry excuse of a couch. His lips are tingling. He can’t believe this is happening. This isn’t right, this is really not okay. He feels uncomfortable in his own skin, lusting after a demon.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby asks, and Sam has to repeat the question out loud, unbelieving. What is she after?

“Where do I start?” he asks, somehow offended. He doesn’t know what he’s even feeling anymore. Everything’s a mess in his head, he yearns for her body, for warmth, for closeness, but at the same time he feels disgusted. His lips are still tingling and he lifts his hand to them like he could somehow erase the feeling. He can feel her mouth against his, warm and inviting.

“Is it because of the body?” Ruby asks, walking closer. Sam can’t help but look at her. He bites on his finger to have something else to think about, but she just sheds her jacket and comes right into his space, settles on the floor between his legs like she belongs there, so smooth, so easy.

“Because I told you,” she says, low. “It’s all me inside of here. There’s no one else in here.” She takes his wrist as she speaks, lowers it, guides in underneath her shirt, and the skin there is so warm, so smooth, Sam has to close his eyes. He’s hot all over, arousal building higher and higher.

“And it’s nice inside this body, Sam,” Ruby keeps talking. She leans her forehead against Sam’s, and for a moment, Sam stays. Then he pulls his head away, takes a breath. The air is full of her scent.

“Soft and warm,” Ruby says to his face. His jeans are getting uncomfortable. She takes his hand higher on her body, and he can’t help but hold on to her, so small.  
“What are you doing?” Sam asks, almost delirious. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore. He’s at the end of his rope, his control slipping more and more every second. He can’t believe he’s here.

“Isn’t it because you’re really scared to go there with a demon?” she taunts him, keeps talking against his face, he can feel every one of her breaths, he can feel her lips. “Because it’s wrong, and it’s bad, and we shouldn’t?”

Sam grits his teeth. He can’t let this happen. But she so close, right there, almost on his skin, and… He snaps. He pulls her mouth against his, violent, needy. He can’t get close enough like this, so he ends up just lifting her so that she’s sitting on his lap, so close to where he wants her, warm, solid and tiny in his arms, humping him, kissing him. He removes her shirt, and she moans. He revels in the sound, lets himself feel it deep in his core. He gets rid of his own t-shirt next, and it’s glorious, her naked, bra-less torso against his, hot to the touch, so right, skin to skin. He grabs her wherever he can, doesn’t bother to be gentle. She can handle it, she seems to like it. He lifts her this way and that, and gets her jeans off. Then he throws them away, somewhere into room. He doesn’t bother removing his own jeans more than necessary, he needs her right now. He just shoves them down enough, and then slides into her wet heat, letting out a long groan.

It feels so good, Ruby moving against him, her insides caressing him. It’s been way too long, Sam decides as he thrusts harder into her, making her moan right into his ear. He kisses her, hard, and she whines into his mouth, digs her fingers into his back, pushes even closer, sweat-slick skin against sweat-slick skin. The heat keeps climbing up, Sam’s breathing ragged. He pistons into her, again, again, again, chases the pleasure. He takes her shoulders in his hands and pulls her down onto him, pushes up at the same time, and that’s it. Everything explodes, pleasure thrumming though him, and she’s right behind him.

They sit there a while, catching their breaths, cooling off. Sam closes his eyes as she pulls away. He doesn’t know if he wants to watch her dress up.  
Shame fills him now that the heat of the moment is gone. He just did that. He had sex with a demon, and he enjoyed it. But, on the other hand, it was Ruby. Sam opens his eyes to witness how she puts on her t-shirt, still no bra to be seen. How is Sam supposed to walk around with her knowing that she has no bra on? Ruby has saved his life more than once. Ruby came to him, offered him a solution, gave him meaning again. Ruby saved him from himself, helped him pull his head out of his ass.  
Ruby looks at him, question in her eyes that she doesn’t voice.

“I needed that,” Sam ends up saying. It’s the truth, and he doesn’t really care. He’s going to kill Lilith and die, and it’s not like things could get any worse.

*

Ruby sleeps next to him that night, warm and cozy even though they don’t cuddle. Sam enjoys her presence there anyway. He sleeps easier with someone else in the room with him. She brings him comfort he doesn’t really want or deserve, but soaks up anyway. If this is all he has, then so be it. He doesn’t really care either way. He’s too tired to feel guilty, too resigned to change anything. He just lives as long as he has to, and that’s that. He’ll manage one last good thing, killing Lilith, and then he’ll be free. Then he will have made peace, one last good deed the world will never acknowledge, and it won’t matter what happens to him. Sam finds strange fulfillment in the thought of dying. He’s the one that should be dead, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the eppisode I Know What You Did Last Summer (4x09).


	6. Chapter 6

_So repose your trust in me, save this love, live and see / if the life beyond this dream is what you seek..._

It’s been three weeks. They’ve tried to pull two more demons, but both of the times failed miserably. Sam has dug two more graves for innocent victims. He’s dark and down, he doesn’t feel like eating.

“I’m helping you here, Sam,” Ruby says as she practically shoves food in his mouth to make him eat. “You’re of no use if you faint because of a low level of blood sugar.”

Sam swallows the piece of pizza reluctantly. “We’ve accomplished nothing!”

“You are getting better,” Ruby insists. She moves her chair closer to his, strokes down his arm. Sam lets her. He’s not sure why she’s so touchy-feely with him from time to time. He never initiates it, and he’s not getting why she’s like this. They have sex, yes. They kiss now and then. But they are far from a couple, far from cuddly. Sam keeps parts of himself consciously away from her. They never talk about Dean. And he hasn’t really talked to her about something else, either.

“I think Lilith’s in the town half an hour away,” he says now and takes a new slice of pizza voluntarily.

Ruby’s hand slides away from his arm. She looks at her, eyebrows high, doe eyes big. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. A blast of white light was reported. There’s a house with a family in it, and no one has come out of there in several days. The family has a girl child. Sounds like her style, doesn’t it?”

“Are you sure?” Ruby asks.

“There’s a bunch of other stuff as well,” Sam says.

Ruby doesn’t seem convinced, but Sam lets it go. He has a plan already. He’s checked out the address of the house, he’s hacked into the reports by concerned neighbors. He’s going to do this. They’ve been practicing; he’s stronger now even though he hasn’t been able to pull a demon successfully. So what if he hasn’t? Let Lilith be the first and the last. Besides, he has Ruby’s knife if things go sideways. He might not get another shot at Lilith, because she sure knows how to hide. He needs to get this over and done with.

Ruby argues with him when he makes to leave. She’s not happy and she doesn’t want him to go. She looks like she cares, and Sam decidedly doesn’t notice. She keeps telling him how they have one shot, how Sam is the only one who can do this. She thinks he’s not ready, but she doesn’t know how he feels inside. Not until she says that Lilith might kill him first and seems suddenly almost desperate, staring him in the eye like she’s asking a question.

“You don’t want to survive this.”

“Come on.” Sam might not be ready to say it out loud. She doesn’t have to sound so offended.

“It’s a kamikaze attack. You want to die fighting Lilith,” she says, challenging him to deny it with her eyes.

“It’s stupid,” Sam says. But she’s right. She’s voicing his only true wish that he might actually get to fulfill. He walks away from her.

“It’s the truth. Because if you kill her and survive this, you have to go on without your brother.” Ruby follows him, but Sam ignores her, keeps on going. He has decided to go, and he will not listen to this.

“This isn’t what Dean would have wanted. This isn’t what he died for.” She’s going for the big guns, stands in front of the door as if she could stop him. She knows better than to talk about Dean. Sam does not talk about Dean or his loss. It’s his and his alone, and she is not allowed to touch it. She doesn’t know shit about what Dean would have wanted. She has no right to tell Sam what to do with his life.

“Get out of my way.” Sam stares down at her.

“No, Sam. This is suicide!” She lunges at him, but he’s bigger than her by far, he counterattacks and presses her into the wall. They had sex like this two days ago, Ruby pinned between Sam and the wall. Sam puts his face very close to hers, presses the knife against her throat. He could kill her, right now. She knows it. Sam knows she knows. And maybe he should kill her, but he might need her still, he has grown to like her in the past weeks. This is just an empty threat, but it’s real enough and does the trick. He gives her a pointed look and opens the door with his free hand, steps out and leaves her there.

He’s going to use this opportunity no matter what Ruby might think of it. Ruby’s opinion doesn’t matter.

*

Sam is high on adrenaline when they leave the house. He just pulled a demon, actually succeeded in it for the first time. Ruby came after him, and he was the one to save her ass for a change. The little girl they saved from the demons has run god knows where, and there are two bodies in the house. Sam and Ruby leave them there and drive away.

“You are so stupid,” Ruby says, wiping the blood from her mouth with a tissue. “That was a trap right there.”

“But I pulled my first demon,” Sam says. He’s allowed to be a little smug. He finally did it, and his head is not completely killing him. He had found the power within; he had been able to control the simmering darkness enough to make it work all the way through. Sam is high with victory even if he walked right into a trap. This trap pushed him into succeeding in something he had failed so many times before. The Impala is a familiar roar under his hands, and he feels almost free. Almost like happy. He did it. That means he can get Lilith, as well, when the time comes. “I pulled my first demon!” Sam repeats.

“Yes, you did, well done,” Ruby says. She doesn’t manage to be quite as dry as she probably would want, and Sam counts that as a win.

“I feel amazing,” Sam says as he hits the gas harder. There are still remnants of the power whirling inside of him, just underneath the surface, and he feels weirdly alive. Dangerously so.

“Good for you.” This time, Ruby’s tone is dry and annoyed. Sam laughs at her, laughs for the first time in however long.

“Never mind that I worried myself sick, got mauled and nearly sent back to the pit, you’re actually laughing?” Ruby rolls her eyes.

Sam just laughs some more.

When they get back to their shack, Sam pushes Ruby against the wall again and kisses her deep. He needs her. He needs to get rid of all this energy, and he knows exactly how to do that. The wound in her inner lip opens up, and Sam tastes blood in his mouth. It tastes different than blood usually does, sparkly on his tongue. He pulls away. The blood feels like little starbursts. That’s not normal.

“What did you do?”

Ruby pants. “What did I do? You made me bleed again.” She rubs against his chest. She’s intoxicating so close to him and Sam’s hands tremble. She has a wicked glint in her eye as she looks up at him.

“What?” Sam asks again, getting rid of his coat. He lets it fall to the floor behind him.

“You know, demon blood gave you this power in the first place.” Her eyes search his, like seeking permission. “Imagine how much better you’d be if you had more in you.”

Sam stares at her, stunned.

“I meant to tell you, I swear,” Ruby says. Her voice is low and seductive, and Sam’s lost. “But I wanted to see how far you could go on your own.”

Sam swallows. He thinks he can feel the tiny bit of blood sliding down his throat, even though he knows that’s not possible. There wasn’t that much of it. “You… want me to drink your blood?”

Ruby smiles, all teeth. “Yes. What, are you so vanilla you’ve never done a little blood play?”

Sam shakes his head. He’s not sure what to think about this. He needs more time. But Ruby is practically on him, and he wants. He wants her so bad he’s shaking with it.

“You wanna give it a go?” Ruby asks.

“Yeah,” Sam breathes into her mouth and kisses her again.

He carries her to the bed, and while he tries to get out of his jeans, Ruby gets a knife from beneath the pillow and starts undressing. She’s a sight to behold, a tiny power-package, smooth skin and open lips. Sam gets naked and nearly falls on her. Ruby presses the knife into his hand.

“Wherever you wish to,” she whispers into his mouth. “I’m all for this, tiger.”

The odd pet name, if it can even be called that, makes Sam’s blood boil. He takes the knife and pulls a thin line on her right breast, right next to the nipple. She gasps, urges him on by digging her nails into his back, and he complies. Blood wells on her skin, and he stares at it before diving in, licking her.

The blood tastes thick on his tongue, hot and heady, like nothing else. It sparkles as it goes down his throat and warms him all over, as if he wasn’t sweating already. He sucks on her breast, nurses on her, and it turns him on. He hasn’t ever felt quite like this. He’s drunk on it, he bites into her, makes her shudder.

He lets his fingers wander downward as he keeps on sucking her. She’s wet when he reaches between her legs, and he pushes two fingers in just to tease himself and work her up even more. Ruby moans out loud, and Sam smirks into her skin, bites down a little.

“Ohh, c’mon,” Ruby breathes, and Sam decides to give it to her. He’s already on edge, her blood is making his insides steam and his cock throb just as much as her body is. He pushes in, deep and hard, and keeps his mouth on her. Ruby’s body bows against his, and he hammers inside her, the bed making a racket against the wall. Ruby keens and Sam can but groan in answer. She feels amazing around him.

It’s over too soon, and Sam feels like he comes forever. It’s intense, almost too much. He feels strong, powerful. He’s sweaty, spent, and full of endorphins. He tries to catch his breath, lies next to Ruby and sees her smile.

“Good?” he asks. His voice is thick and low. He feels dirty somehow, feels her blood on his face, in his stomach. He almost wants to puke, the taste in his mouth too heady.

“So very good,” Ruby answers in a husky voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from th episode I KNow What You Did Last Summer (4x09).


	7. Chapter 7

_Give me your poison kiss / Now, come night, I need my sleeping wish / help me dream again, somehow kiss me now_

The days become a blur after Ruby first gives Sam blood. Sam feels weird. He doesn’t drink alcohol anymore, and his headaches are mostly gone, only returning every now and then. He isn’t drunk, but he’s not really sober either. The blood gives him a new kind of hype, a new kind of high. He also feels sick. He tries not to think about it too much. He gets better at pulling demons, and that’s what matters the most. He gets really good at ignoring unpleasant thoughts.

The demons are surprisingly easy to find. The gates of Hell that Jake opened let out a lot of evil, and Sam finds himself cleaning up the mess that whole debacle caused, like he and Dean had tried to do all year. Demons used to be rare. Sam still remembers how overwhelming it was, stepping into a plane knowing there was a demon inside, something they hadn’t dealt with before. Now demons are everyday, everywhere. The demons he comes across now hiss at him, throw words at him, some even dare to talk about Dean. It doesn’t matter much, because Sam pulls them all out of their hosts and they are in Hell where they belong. Just another day at the office, even though there’s no office, per se.

Sam and Ruby are on the move now. The shack wasn’t meant for long-term living anyway. Sam likes being on the road. This life is familiar to him, and he finds comfort in the car, in the motels, in the diners. Ruby sits shotgun, talks about this and that, finds another demon for them to roast. It almost feels as if he was with Dean. Sam feels almost complete, and the empty void his brother left within him only echoes at night, or when Ruby disappears to help with the hunt, leaving Sam to fend for his own. Sam doesn’t do too well alone.

He sits on a nameless motel room bed, staring at the amulet he saved from around Dean’s neck. He didn’t wear it at first. Instead he kept it hidden in his duffel, a physical reminder of his pain. But now he’s had it on for a week, and it feels nice. It’s like he has a little piece of Dean, right there, on his heart. Ruby hasn’t said anything about it, but she has noticed. Sam’s glad she won’t bring Dean up anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and he doubts he ever will. It’s good that she respects that, it’s more than Sam would have expected of a demon.

It’s been three months today. Three long, empty months without Dean. Sam swings the amulet from his fingers. There’s a low thrum in his core from the blood Ruby gave him that morning, and it makes Sam uneasy. Dean wouldn’t like it if he knew. Sam brushes an angry hand down his face. It doesn’t matter what Dean would think, Dean is dead. Three months dead. Sam made his choice, and he decided that he would kill Lilith. He needs to be strong for that, and blood is what makes him stronger than he’s ever been. He’s more in control of his life than ever before and it feels good.

Ruby is only helping him; Sam knows that without a doubt. Dean wouldn’t believe him, but that doesn’t matter either. Ruby is the only one who has helped him, the only one who hasn’t cared about his sometimes pissy attitude. Ruby came to him even when he told her no, and Sam realizes now that she has saved him. He wouldn’t be alive anymore if it wasn’t for her. He would have drunk himself into a coma by now, and no one would have noticed it. It doesn’t feel that bad a fate, but Sam’s glad that he can make his death count by killing Lilith.

Bobby has tried calling, but Sam won’t answer. He has nothing to say. Bobby would only want to hear how he’s doing, and he can’t really tell the man anything. Not about his loss or grief, and certainly not about Ruby. Bobby wouldn’t approve of Ruby, and Sam would get angry and protective, and he doesn’t want to see Bobby’s face when the man inevitably feels like Sam has betrayed him. Sam is not. He’s only trying to make the world a better place. Lilith shouldn’t walk on Earth, and Sam is the only one who can make sure that comes to an end. Bobby wouldn’t understand his means, though. Bobby would be sad and disappointed, and Sam can’t face that right now. It would break him for good. It’s better to keep Bobby away. The man doesn’t need any more grief than losing Dean has brought him. Sam will stay out of it. It’s better that way even if it hurts.

There is probably nothing that doesn’t hurt. Momentarily Sam can forget it all when he fucks Ruby, but it always comes back. He feels small and he aches and aches, he just wants his brother back and nothing else can do any good. He remembers when Dean first went to school. Sam had thrown a fit at dad for making Dean go away, he had cried all day until Dean had come back. He can still remember the fear and the need to have Dean back now. Some days, when Ruby is gone long, Sam feels like that again. He wants to throw things and roar in rage and demand someone to bring his brother back to him, right now, or else.

He really can’t live like this for long. Ruby needs to get him strong enough to face Lilith as soon as possible, because Sam might break before that. He’s a mess. There’s only one direction in his life, and that’s towards Lilith. He just wishes he didn’t have to stand still waiting for his death. He wants it to happen already, he’s been hurting long enough. He needs his peace. He just has to earn it first, and there are not many chances of that.

*

Ruby is gone for hours and hours. Sam is getting restless. He’s been too long alone with his thoughts, today of all days. The anniversary of Dean’s death. Still the thought is absurd in a way. Sam wonders if it will ever make sense, Dean dying. He hopes he had some alcohol, but they haven’t bought anything stronger than beer in weeks. And now there’s not even beer. Sam walks from the door to the bed and back again.

He needs Ruby. He hates to admit that, but he has to. He’s of no use all alone. He can’t keep himself in check, instead he needs someone else to keep him sane. He’s a train wreck waiting to happen. He needs someone to keep him from spiraling out of control. He can hardly remember the days before Ruby came to him, and he’s glad it is so.

Sam stares out of the window and realizes that he doesn’t really like himself. He’s always felt somehow alienated from everyone else – maybe from everyone but Dean. He knows he’s a freak, but he can’t just accept it, he cannot take the stone cold truth and be fine with it. He wishes he was something different, something better. He always has wanted to change. And now he’s pulling demons with his mind and lapping up demon blood. He is more of a freak now than ever before, even if he’s in control of himself in a way he’s never been. But that control is fragile some days.

He sure hopes they find Lilith soon. He needs this all to be over.

*

“Where the hell have you been?” Sam explodes when Ruby finally walks in. It’s dark outside, Sam has watched the light slowly turn into twilight and then into darkness. His mood hasn’t exactly improved.

“Not in Hell, that’s for sure. I got us another lead on a demon,” Ruby says, throws the key on the table and looks at Sam. “Are you okay?”

Sam doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns away and lets out an unhappy laugh.

“Sam. I’m right here.” Ruby walks across the room and reaches out to touch Sam’s arm. “If you want to talk about it, whatever it might be, you only have to start speaking.”

“I can’t,” Sam says. He doesn’t know where to begin, and he’s still not sure how much he can say to Ruby. He trusts her now, he really does, but there are some things that hurt too much. Some things he can’t voice because that would make them too real. He turns to her, and does the only thing that might help even a little. He bends down to kiss her, to find oblivion in her body. It might not be the best way of dealing with things, but it’s the only one he can do. And Ruby is game; she seems to be ready for Sam from the slightest sign that he wants this.

After, he holds her close and buries his nose in her hair. He doesn’t usually do this, but Ruby says nothing, just lets it happen. She seems to know that he needs this, if just for a moment, even if it’s just a lie he needs to let himself believe in.

*

They’re sitting in the Impala, getting ready to leave. Sam digs through Dean’s cassette tapes to find something to listen to during the drive.

“You do realize that this car is yours now?” Ruby asks. She sounds impatient.

Sam looks up from the box and at her. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to listen to your brother’s music anymore. You can listen to whatever you like,” Ruby says.

Sam shrugs. “Yeah, but I don’t have my music in cassettes. I can’t play it here.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “You’re the one living in this time and age and you can’t figure out that there are devices for that.”

Sam stares out of the window for a while. He knows what she means. He knows she knows he’s not as into Dean’s music as he pretends to be. But in his mind this car is still Dean’s, and there should be Dean’s music as well. Sam has long ago given up complaining about Dean’s taste in music, it was useless. But now… Dean isn’t here anymore. Sam has to accept that. Maybe getting new music would help him realize that he can live without his brother.

It hurts. He has moved on before, though. He survived losing Jess. He can survive losing Dean, or at least he can live while waiting for his death. Can’t he?

“He would not approve,” Sam says quietly.

“He is not here.” Ruby’s tone is not unkind, but her words still sting. No matter that Sam just thought the same – she’s not allowed to say things like that.

“And I can’t listen to his shit a moment longer,” Ruby adds then.

Sam sighs, makes a decision. “Fine.” He can do this. It’s just a small thing, easy to get rid of. He can do things for himself now. He doesn’t need to ask or listen to anyone else’s opinion. He doesn’t have to bend to Dean’s every whim. He will buy himself an iPod jack the next time they get close to a store where he can buy one.


	8. Chapter 8

_One too many poisoned kisses / And I'm drowning in your deepest sea / I found my destination, something I'm here for... / I'm knockin' on my heaven's door_

It’s September when Sam and Ruby drive into a town a little too close to the place where Sam buried Dean. Sam tries not to think about it, but he doesn’t manage. He almost wants to go see the place. He almost wants to go into the clearing and sleep on Dean’s grave, say something to his brother even though he very well knows Dean can’t hear him. But there are demons in this town, and Sam and Ruby have been going after every one they can find. There’s no time to take a tour to some patch of woods.

That doesn’t mean Sam isn’t close to taking the car and driving there anyway. He gets to the Impala, sits down and freezes right there. He can’t. He has built a shaky foundation for himself. He’s almost coping with Dean’s death. It all will crumble if he goes to the gravesite and he can’t do that right now. He’s on a mission, in the middle of a job. He doesn’t have the time to weep and drown in his grief. Sam has to push it away, deny himself the tears. He steels himself and gets back to the motel room.

Sam doesn’t tell Ruby why he’s suddenly even more sullen than normally. He just sits on the bed without saying a word.

“So, there’s this diner,” Ruby says. “I think we should go there today, to see if someone’s in.”

Sam shrugs. “Fine by me. Does this mean I need to get my strength up?”

Ruby’s smile is slow and seductive. “Only if you think you’ll need it, wonder boy.”

Sam beckons her with a finger, and she walks to him, to the bed. He gets a knife from his duffel and twirls it in his fingers. He’s getting familiar with this. He’s learned to like their games, and there’s no doubt in his actions anymore. The only thing he has to decide now is where to cut her. Her arm would be fast to get to, because she’s still wearing her clothes, but Sam might be in the mood for teasing and slow. He smirks at Ruby and falls to the bed with her.

*

Sam showers clinically. He only takes the time he absolutely needs and doesn’t linger anywhere. He doesn’t feel as dirty as he used to, in the beginning. The power of the blood simmers inside, strong, warm and so damn relieving. He has learned to enjoy it. Ruby will be glad to hear it, glad to see Sam co-operating all the way. Sam is tired of being difficult, tired of fighting the thing they have. So, he hunts with a demon and he sleeps with a demon. But that way he will get his revenge, and there’s no harm in taking pleasure in it. Sam thinks Dean once said something about it – that there was nothing wrong enjoying a good kill. And that’s what this is: build-up for the ultimate kill.

Lilith will die in Sam’s hands. That’s the thought Sam hangs on to as he rinses his hair. Lilith will know who killed her and why, and she will suffer. She will pay for Dean’s soul with her very existence. And Sam doesn’t care how that happens. He will kill her if it kills him. This is his holy grail, the one mission worth his life. He has, at last, made his peace with his destiny.

He tried to fight it, before, back with the premonitions. He had told Dean to kill him. He remembers only vaguely the despair he felt. It feels a bit silly now, thinking back. How did he think he could evade his fate? He knows now he will never be clean, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going to die, sooner rather than later. It’s not like he will be remembered as nothing less than a freak that let the gates of Hell open up and released an army of demons on Earth. But he will die knowing that he got rid of Lilith, the first demon, and that will be his price, his victory. The only peace he will ever get.

And ends do justify the means. Most of the hunters Sam’s ever encountered probably would frown upon his actions. They might even want to off him for what he’s doing. But Sam has a goal, a goal he can’t get to any other way. And he’s certain all hunters would agree that Lilith biting the dust is good news. This feeling, right here, the feeling of purpose and something he’s working towards, is the only heaven he’ll ever know. And he’ll take it. He’ll take what he can get while he still lives.

Sam towels off in the bathroom and throws on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He tries to dry his hair some, but leaves it. Through the bathroom door he hears Ruby talk to someone. That’s unexpected. A pizza delivery? Sam didn’t know she’d ordered pizza. He is hungry, though, he could eat something. He walks out into the room. “Hey, is there…”

That’s when his whole world tilts a little, turns red at the edges. A likeness of Dean stands there, and it hurts so bad to look at that face, his brother’s beloved face. It hurts even more to meet the familiar green eyes Sam closed with his own fingers four months ago.

“Heya, Sammy,” the thing says, and it’s Dean’s voice, deep and familiar.

Sam can’t speak, can’t breathe. He keeps staring at this image, so perfect, so much like his brother. His very soul aches at the sight. Dean – or whatever it is – walks closer, into the room.

Sam has his knife, he charges without thought, he’s a wild animal, filled with wrath. Ruby lets out a shout. What kind of a creature would dare take his brother’s form and parade in front of Sam like this? Sam will tear it to little pieces, maybe with his bare hands, he doesn’t even really want the knife he has in his hands. He wants to hurt the creature, because it feels like he’s being torn up. The grief he tried to push away is right there under the surface and Sam will not break, not now. He will kill that thing.

Except that somehow Bobby is there, too, holding him back.

“Who are you?” Sam demands.

“Like you didn’t do this?”

“Do what?” Sam is tired, so tired of these games. He tries to get rid of Bobby, fighting against his hold.

“It’s him, Sam, I’ve been through this with him, it’s really him.” It takes a while for Bobby’s words to get through to Sam. Bobby tested Dean. It’s actually him, living, breathing, alive. Sam can only stare in shock. Everything stops.

“What…” Sam starts, but he has no idea how to finish. Dean. Dean is here.

Dean steps closer. “I know. I look fantastic, huh?” He looks a bit shaken, like Sam scared him somehow.

Sam rushes to embrace his brother. Dean feels so solid and warm, his arms wrapping around Sam and holding him, holding Sam so tight that Sam never wants this to end. Dean smells familiar, comforting, safe. He’s so maddeningly real Sam’s almost shaking with it. Dean is alive. Dean is right here, breathing loud in Sam’s ear, Dean is here. Dean holds Sam just as tight, and Sam never wants to let him go, never wants him to let go. He could stay right here, pressed against Dean, forever and a day. But he can’t.

They part at the same time, holding on to each other’s shoulder as long as possible. Sam smiles, nods a little. He looks at Dean. Dean looks good, so healthy and whole. Real. Dean is really here.

“Are you two like, together?”

Sam looks at Ruby. “What?” Then he gets it. Dean doesn’t know it’s Ruby.

Sam wants to be annoyed at the comment, he wants to hate her a little for saying that, but he can’t because Dean is here. “No. No. He… he’s my brother.” His brother, his everything, the single most important person in the world – but that is something Sam can never say out loud. He can think it now, though, because Dean is here and not gone anymore. Dean is everything, and nothing else matters.

Nothing else matters but the fact that somehow Dean is really back.

Ruby leaves, makes a big show of it, all innocent eyes and coy body language. She makes Sam look like an idiot. Sam just plays along, because what else can he do? Dean’s back, he’s back and can’t know. He’s really here and Sam doesn’t even know what to think. Dean was dead, Sam himself took care of his brother’s cooling body, and now Dean is standing here, in the room where Sam just half an hour ago sucked tainted blood out of his demon lover.

Dean is back.

Oh, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter is from the episode Lazarus Rising (4x01).
> 
> \--
> 
> So, this was my fic for the Sam Winchester Big Bang over on LJ & Tumblr. This fic has been coming for ages, I first started writing this about five years ago. Thanks to the challenge, I finally had enough motivation to get it done! Thank you to the people running SWBB! 
> 
> And then, thanks to my artist, violette-pleasures on Tumblr, who created awesome art and didn't mind my last minute panic :D Go see the art at her tumblr.


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